


The Bet

by StarkRogers



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Frottage, M/M, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 01:13:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11302677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkRogers/pseuds/StarkRogers
Summary: Copyright: This is an original work of fiction. Sherlock Holmes is public domain, making this piece of work legally mine. You may not reproduce or publish this work on any site or in any journal or any other form of media without my permission.Note: This is an ANCIENT fic I wrote in the early days of the SHKinkeme that I just dug up off my LJ!Summary: Holmes and Watson have a bet over whether or not Holmes can get Watson to come in his trousers.





	The Bet

"I daresay I could old boy," Holmes was saying, but I paid him little heed as we trudged through the dark, slush-filled streets of London.

"And I say you could not! Look Holmes, this is a conversation - and a bet - better left in the safety and warmth of our rooms." With that, I suddenly found my being swirled through flurries of falling snow into a narrow alleyway, then pressed up against the rough brick wall. My eyebrows rose as I saw the dark look on Holmes' face, but before I could ask what on Earth he was doing, my detective had dropped to his knees in the gathering drifts of snow and began peppering kisses against my groin.

"Oh!" I started, my hands swooping to Holmes' head much against my will. I laced my fingers into his locks, my fingers swirling about against his scalp. I felt myself heating up already, and struggled to swallow as Holmes' head smoothly gyrated beneath my hands. A hot shiver crept over my shoulders like a blanket being drawn around me, and my fingers twitched in Holmes' hair. I could not drag my eyes away from the obscene image of Holmes' brown head twisting against me. My breath quickened at the way his nose bent as he pressed feverishly against the tweed of my trousers. I bit my lip as Holmes' reddened mouth dragging across the fabric.

I groaned as the sight overwhelmed me, my eyes watering in the cold wind that crept around the edge of the alley's walls. I pressed them closed, but it only served to make the point of hot pressure at my groin even more poignant, until all I could feel was Holmes' mouth pressed against me, kneading with lips and tongue and - oh god, teeth, biting and squeezing me through my trousers. My knees weakened and I gave the wall all of my weight. 

"Oh please Holmes! Stop! Let me-" I reached for the button of my pants. Pulling my fingers from Holmes' soft warm hair I felt the cold hit them, and they shook as I tried to undo my fly. Holmes responded with a ferocious sucking that even through the layers of material made me gasp. London's only consulting detective took my hands and pinned them against the cold brick wall. I whimpered and leaned my head back, my hat catching against the wall. 

I cried out at a sudden chill, and looked down just as Holmes lifted his mouth away and spoke. There was a smug confidence in his dark eyes, hovering over his hawk-like nose. The smirk on his swollen lips elicited a whimper from me.

"Now now John, opening your trousers would invalidate the bet. I said I could cause you to come undone in your trousers, and I shall proceed to finish with it. For your part, you will continue to make those delicious mewling noises." And with that, he returned to hungrily attacking my groin, and the I proceeded on with uttering vulgarities in all the languages I’d learned on three separate continents. I managed to regain a bit of my senses despite the assault in my southern regions, and clenched my teeth.

"I won't allow you the pleasure," I replied haltingly, "And I do not 'mew!' " I steeled myself against the renewed onslaught. Holmes sensed that I was no longer going to be such easy prey, and so he changed his tactics. I was quite unprepared when Holmes pressed a hand between my legs, fondling me gently before sliding farther back, pressing against my sensitive perineum and entrance through hot, damp fabric. The sound I made was embarrassingly close to that of a kitten after all, and my whole body jerked against the wall. 

The dampness of Holmes' breath now cooled against my skin, having seeped through the layers of clothing to chill me, and my body ached for the return of his warm mouth. It was almost worse to have the detective's mouth gone than it had been to have it there. As Homes continued to press against the sensitive parts between my legs, and as I continued to shake against his hands, I noticed with agonizing clarity the roughness provided by the inside of my damp under clothing. With continued whimpers I tried to hold myself still, tossing my head to the side as the effort turned to a burning need that was slowly rising. 

<><><><><>

_Oh, my dear doctor…_

I dragged my fingers down the inside of Watson's thighs, evoking from above a noise somewhere between a relieved sigh and a groan of agony. I smirked up at my doctor, watching him writhe against the wall. I noted with amusement how Watson's hands had stayed pressed against the brick even though my own hands had long ago left his wrists to explore elsewhere, trailing along tights and between his legs. 

I was rather pleased; at first I’d been disappointed and thought that Watson would make this far too easy, but now the challenge was renewed and I was very happy to take it on. The brute force approach had failed, so now I was working on more subtle tricks. Watson's undoing would be in that I knew every erogenous zone on his body, every place to nip, to press, to torture with feather-light touches. My ultimate goal was to reduce Watson to rutting against the inside of his own pants, and in such a manner cause the man to reach orgasm without me even touching him in the last moments. Watson, however, was making this a bit difficult by clenching his fists, taking deep breaths, and generally being a nuisance. It would only make the end much more gratifying - for me, at least.

I drew my mouth down the top of the doctor's thigh, nipping at the flesh beneath the cloth with satisfying results. Watson jerked each time, uttering noises that would make a sailor blush. My deft fingers worked in the moist heat between Watson's legs as his keening cries dropped down upon me. Watson’s legs had spread of their own accord, and I took advantage of this, kissing and biting my way back up to the hard heat throbbing beneath his trousers. I noted that the chill of the night (and Watson's own iron will) had waned it slightly despite my ministrations elsewhere, and so I ran a thumb along it, rubbing the buried tip as Watson hissed above. It regained its lost strength, and I stood, drawing my nails from beneath the tip, up the shaft, and on to the doctor's stomach, all of which produced a most enjoyable drawn out moan that left me dazed for a moment, my breath caught in my throat as I bathed in the lust of it. My eyes were locked on Watson's wanton form: his lips parted beneath his mustache damp with condensation, his legs spread crudely, his hands pressed against the wall. 

When my breath returned, I dove for the doctor's neck, burying my mouth with shuddering sighs in the warmth beneath Watson's ear. My hand continued to work against Watson's trousers, rubbing up and down his length. Perhaps the plan is backfiring a bit, I though, as I found my own pants becoming uncomfortably tight, a tenseness rising in my abdomen. With my other hand I cupped Watson's face. I closed my eyes and kissed Watson's ear roughly, ignoring the other man's responses for a moment and indulging myself in the cold, bitter night as a moan broke from my lips.

<><><><><>

"Oh heaven, Holmes.” I whimpered as he moaned in my ear. My plan of ignoring Holmes' advances was failing fast, and I would shatter into a million pieces if my detective kept moaning in my ear like that. Seeming to sense this weakness Holmes sharpened again, coming out of whatever reverie had overtaken him just moments before.

"Watson…" Holmes said gently against my ear, and my length betrayed me, pulsing beneath Holmes' hand. I whimpered again, and could swear I felt Holmes smirk against my neck. 

"John…" Holmes crooned, his voice even softer, filthier, and my entire body jerked against my will as if struck by lightening. It was like silverly light was being poured into my ear from Holmes' mouth and trickling down my body into my groin. My cheeks flushed and my eyes stared blankly at the other wall of the alley as I waited for more words, feeling Holmes' warm breath against my ear and neck, my mouth dry, throat unable to swallow. 

My erection strained against Holmes' hand down below and the detective indulged me, rubbing his entire palm up and down my length, curling his fingers every few strokes, which caused me to issue forth another round of litanies. No! I cried to himself, crying out as I fought to stop my release. My head rolled uselessly on my neck, trying to arch away from Holmes' mouth, his words. I shuddered, only being able to reduce my thrusting to petit-mal like shaking against the brick wall. 

I heard Holmes' breath coming in shuddering bursts, his body pressed tightly against me as my body came back under his control. 

"Don't stop," Holmes urged against my neck, and I felt a surge of pride to hear the lack of control, the desperation in his voice - and the sensation of him rubbing his hips against my thigh. I shuddered out a laugh, willing my hips to stay still against the wall as Holmes' hand against me faltered. I pressed a hand against Holmes’ chest, feeling his heart pounding through his coat. I pressed him away slightly, almost chuckling as Holmes fought back against me, trying to cling even closer. 

"This was your bet Holmes,” I said breathlessly. "Don't tell me you're about to lose."

"Hardly," the growled, though it barely hid a whine. "It will be mine." 

I simply raised my eyebrows, firstly because for the moment, Holmes seemed to be the one out of control. Secondly, I simply couldn't see what more the man could do to me through my thick jacket and trousers. Now that we were both thoroughly aroused and equally denied, the only logical course I could foresee was a mad dash back to the apartment to "finish up" in more proper accouterments. There was no way that I, as a proper gentleman, was ever going to loose myself in my trousers, much less in a public place such as this.

<><><><><>

Unfortunately, Watson had severely underestimated me, the Great Sherlock Holmes, once again. After a momentary respite, I resumed my plans to turn Watson into a whimpering, rutting ball of… pleasurable things. I grimly admitted my mind was still partly clouded by Watson's incredibly alluring reactions to my voice, but I vowed to put my own lust aside and focus. I put my attentions first to unbuttoning Watson's thick winter coat, to which the doctor protested loudly.

"That's cheating Holmes! I thought you said you'd accomplish the deed with my clothes fully on!" 

"I said I would make you come undone in your trousers,  _dear John,_ " I said, leaning in on the last bit to hiss it in his ear. "Secondly, your coat is simply unbuttoned, not removed." I then tried to unbutton his vest, to which Watson brought up his hands, encircling my wrists. I smirked, and continued unbuttoning after a slight pause, as the hands on my wrists were firm, but not truly impeding me in any way. 

"It is freezing out here Holmes!" Watson's mustache bristled as he glared at me, but I continued opening the front of his clothing. I grinned as the doctor's shirt fell open. A sudden icy breeze fluttered into the alleyway, making Watson close his eyes and hiss, gripping my wrists even tighter. I knelt slightly, my hands slipping inside Watson's shirt and beneath suspenders. The doctor's breath caught in his throat as my cold fingers caressed the sides of his abdomen. I swallowed down an approving moan as Watson's head tip back, exposing his long, fine neck. 

"Then I suggest you hurry it up and concede," I replied, running my cold hands up Watson's sides. To this, the doctor did something that took my breath away once more: he arched his back and raised his arms with a deep moan, crossing them over his head, exposing his entire torso to me, bordered by the coat, vest and shirt. Watson's breath clouded the air between us, his eyes closed, nipples hard from the cold air. I stood for so long in utter shock that the doctor opened his eyes slightly, looking at me from beneath blond lashes. 

My jaw was quite literally on the floor of the alley, and I could not seem to regain my composure. The look of Watson's deep blue eyes veiled with need did not help in the slightest. I closed my mouth and wet my tongue with difficulty, leaning in with faltering grace to take a peaked nipple into my mouth. Watson's sharp cry drove straight to my groin, and I suckled like a needy child. I didn't even notice how Watson tipped his head down to watch, enjoying the act, but using it to manipulate me to his own conclusion.

<><><><><>

I had finally come to the decision that the only way out of this with any dignity would be by beating Holmes at his own game. The difficulty with this was that Holmes relished in me coming undone in a most ungentlemanly fashion. Casting my own polite reservations aside, I arched my back and revealed my torso to the achingly cold air. I watched, satisfied as Holmes was reduced to staring like a schoolboy before pressing that hot mouth against one of my cold nipples. I bit off the sharp cry, trying to focus on maintaining control as the detective abused my broad chest with his hot mouth, his cold fingers warming against my exposed stomach. 

"Oh yes Holmes…" I said, adding a slight tremor to my voice for added effect. Holmes' fingers twitched against my abdomen and I smirked, easily letting my breath catch in my throat. I hummed deeply in my chest as Holmes’ teeth trailed along my collarbones, slowly lowering my arms to crush Holmes against my pelvis by way of grabbing his firm round bottom. My breath stole away as I felt Holmes pressing hard against me and my nearly forgotten arousal. It was like a fire had been relight down below, and I barely maintained control as he began rubbing like a dog in heat against my hips. 

I lifted one arm and wrapped it around Holmes' shoulder, the other remained tightly around his waist. The earlier neglect of my length combined with the sudden return of sensation was enough to drive me to the edge, and at this point I didn't care. I was freezing; allowing Holmes to disrobe me even halfway had not been the most brilliant of plans even though Holmes was warm against my bare chest. To add to this, he was still driving against me desperately, and I found myself jerking my hips upwards to increase the speed and friction. 

Holmes was crying out, the sound muffled in my neck and the crook of my shoulder, which Holmes was wetly sucking on in between moans. I buried his own face into Holmes' coat, my own grunts coming as exhalations to the rhythm of our rutting. I was fairly sure this had not been part of Holmes’ plan… but as I felt a heat rising in my cheeks, my voice tightening and rising in pitch, I decided that perhaps a draw would be better than a total loss...

<><><><><>

A draw was indeed better than a total loss, I decided, since that was inevitably what Watson would consider this, despite the fact that no where in the original bet had I mentioned anything about me coming to completion in my own trousers. Watson had just recently remarked that with my known depravity, this was not such a far fetched idea. In fact, wasn't that the very discussion that had led to this… situation? The whole bet that I could, with proper stimulation, make the prim and proper doctor release within his own trousers, despite his protests?

It was with this singular thought that I finally managed to pull myself away from Watson, aching though I was for completion. I turned my energies instead towards the still damp, swollen fabric of the doctor's trousers, ignoring the cry of protest as my body heat left the doctor's bare chest open to the cold night air. Watson closed his arms over his chest and shivered, both from cold and from the return of my mouth to his arousal. He was so close, yet I had drawn away! 

<><><><><>

“Holmes!” That blasted man had pulled away just to win the bet, just to prove me wrong… And it was this last, humiliating, and achingly arousing thought that sent me over the edge, blushing with shame as I felt hot fluid pooling inside my trousers. 

"God damn you Holmes… you always have to win, don't you?" I said breathlessly, looking down at the pleased detective. 

"Of course I do, Watson. I wouldn't be me, otherwise. And I know you like that,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. "You wouldn't have me any other way dear John."

My blush burned feverishly against my cheeks, speaking more truth than I could at the moment. Holmes stood and made a bit of a show of dusting the snow off of his knees. Then he looked up at me, as I still stood with my shirt open, my vest and coat clutched carelessly over my torso. The shivers were setting back in, and Holmes finally took a bit of sympathy on me. 

"I do believe you have a bit of unfinished business to attend to," he said, gesturing to his own tented trousers. "But that can wait until we have reached the warmth - and safety - of our rooms." With that, he buttoned the front of my jacket over my chest, and led me as we trudged through the snow.


End file.
